


Long Way Home

by suallenparker



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Car Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Romance, do not copy to other sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suallenparker/pseuds/suallenparker
Summary: Emily volunteers to drive Hotch home after he got too close to yet another explosion and isn’t cleared to fly.Set in season 7, Spoilers for season 4.This story is part of theLLF Comment Project
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Emily Prentiss
Comments: 27
Kudos: 57





	Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Season 7, slight Spoilers for S04E01 “Mayhem”. You know, the episode Hotch got too close to an explosion for the first time.   
> I wrote the first part of this over ten years ago. Then stuff happened and I never finished this. I posted the first half of it on Tumblr under the Title “Sleeping in my car, Part 1”. It's a lot angstier than this version in the beginning. I changed so much! If you search for it you can still find it there.
> 
> Also, as I continued to write the sex-scene, I literally thought to myself “I need to switch on the lights” - so of course I went back and what was once a drive through the night is now during the day. Because of course I did that to myself. LOL I hope I caught every night, moon and stars I previously added! 
> 
> Anyway, now almost ten years after I started writing this, it's finally here and completed. I hope you'll enjoy!

“ _If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”_ Emily Jane Brontë 

o0o

  
  


I won’t lose him.

That sentence became my mantra after the Foyet incident. I kept repeating that sentence in my mind while I waited for him to wake up. It stuck with me.

I won’t lose him.

He doesn't even have to love me back. I know he only sees me as his colleague, maybe as a friend, but I can live with that. _He_ can live with that. Easily, I suppose. I just need him alive. I can deal with unrequited love. I wouldn't be able to deal with the loss.

Today I won't lose him.

We just finished our case, the bad guy is caught and the two teenage girls he had kidnapped this time are saved. Everybody is safe.

I’m already sitting in our SUV. As soon as Hotch is done briefing the cops, we can drive to our hotel and pack for our flight back home. He smiles at me from across the street as he finally turns around. The police officers are already heading towards their car.

For today we’re safe. I won’t lose him today.

Then the house behind him explodes.

  
  


o0o

  
  


There was a gas leak yesterday. A stupid _gas leak_. No UNSUP, no attack. Just a freak accident. A young cop that had still been in the building must’ve allowed himself a smoke. They later found his ashes close to the back door. So stupid.

Nothing is safe, nothing is certain. My stupid mantra isn’t helping at all.

The team flew back yesterday evening. Hotch made them. He tried to send me away too. But his eardrums got blown out and he can't fly and I'm not leaving here without him.

I'm gonna bring him home. That's all I want, I swear.

Now I just have to convince him of that too.

It’s hot outside. Almost ninety degrees, even at nine in the morning. Fortunately the SUV the FBI rented for us has air conditioning, which should make the seven-hour drive back to Quantico bearable.

I parked it in the hotel garage, my luggage is already in the trunk, I packed some snacks and drinks into a cooler that's now stashed behind the driver's seat and now all I need is Hotch, so we can leave.

The hotel floor looks like all the other hotel floors we've been to during the last few years. No windows. Boring prints of boring paintings. Yellow top lights. Why are the walls always beige?

At least this one has deep blue carpet. A nice change from the normal brown.

His room is two doors down from mine. Well, from what was my room. I checked out an hour ago.

Before I can knock, Hotch opens the door, his go bag in hand. He stops in his tracks when he notices me. “Prentiss?”

“Hi, Hotch. Are you ready to go?” I ask as if what I'm doing is totally normal and not an ambush.

He isn’t wearing his usual suit jacket, just a simple white button-up, with the sleeves, rolled up. And he's wearing a deep blue tie. I'm not even surprised.

There’s a bruise on his right hand. I know he has another one on his right arm, a cut on his chest, and his eardrums got blown out. But aside from that he’s okay. He’s alive.

He puts down the bag before he locks the door. “What are you doing here?” he asks as I walk up to him.

The hem of my light, weather-appropriate dress floats around my knees. Maybe a red summer dress wasn’t the smartest choice, maybe I should wear pants like him. But there is that irrational side in me that wants to remind him that I’m more than just an agent, that I’m a woman.

“I’m your ride,” I say and stop an arms-length in front of him. Close enough to touch him. I won't though. I want to, but I won't. Instead, I tease him. “Since Morgan drove you the last time you blew out your eardrums, it’s my turn now.”

“You don’t have to do that, Prentiss.”

“Since my flight already left, I pretty much do.” I force myself to smile lightly. “But just so you know, the next time you get too close to an explosion, Reid is going to be your driver.”

He smiles back. “Is that a threat?”

“If you'll behave on this trip, I won't let it come to that, promise.”

“I'll be good, then.” He keeps smiling.

It's so good to see him like this. Alive. Bruised, but alive. The rings around his eyes are deep and dark. “Did you sleep at all last night?” I ask. He doesn't look like it.

“Yes.”

“About five minutes?”

He just grins.

“Yeah, not even that, right?”

He pulls his brows together. “Those hospital-beds are awful.”

No doubt here. “Good thing I'm driving then. You can sleep in the car.”

“If you say so.”

He doesn't believe he's gonna close an eye. We'll see. I love the way he smiles now. So smug. I want to kiss that grin away. I want to hug him. Two terrible ideas. “How are you?” I ask instead. I should've asked that as soon as I saw him.

His smile broadens. “Good.”

Yeah, right. “Are you sure? Because you look like crap.”

That makes him chuckle and I want to kiss him even more. “Flattery won't get you anywhere,” he says.

Now I just wait.

“My ears hurt,” he says. “And so do the bruises. But otherwise, I'm fine.” His voice is soft.

I don't know why that breaks me, but it does. After the explosion I found him on the ground, on his side, screaming in pain and covering his ears and I was terrified and helpless and so utterly useless. I don't think he could hear me mumble useless phrases while I knelt beside him. I wonder if he remembers how I held him until the ambulance came.

But he's fine now. I haven't lost him and he's okay.

I press my lips together and blink. I'm not gonna cry now, he's fine!

“Hey …” He touches my arm.

“You really scared me,” I say.

“I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

He squeezes my arm and moves a little closer. “I'm fine now, Prentiss. I'm okay.”

Thank God. Thank you. He is. I loop my arms around his shoulders and hug him. “I'm glad,” I say besides his cheek. I should let go now. But his arms wrap around my waist and he takes a breath like he's relieved and so I hold on.

He's warm and he smells good and I feel his heartbeat against my chest.

This feels good. This feels right.

Eventually, I let go a little and move my hands to his shoulders. He drops his arms to his sides, but the way he looks at me …

I kiss him then; it's so easy. I just cradle his face and brush my lips over his.

And he does absolutely nothing.

Because I'm overstepping and I'm unprofessional and why in the hell did I just kiss him?

I take a step back. “I'm so sorry, sir.” I can barely look at him.

He's frowning now, his lips pressed together to a thin line.

Oh god, what have I done? “I'm so very sorry!” I say. My heart's racing, my face is flushed. “I'm so sorry, sir. I should've never done that, I'm -”

“Do you have an explanation for your behavior?” Now he's cold.

Confessing my love would just push his boundaries further. “I promise I will never cross your boundaries like that again,” I say as if that would be reassuring. Of course, it isn't. What have I done?

He gives a short nod before he picks up his bag from the ground. “We should get driving,” he says. That's all.

I'm heartbroken and relieved at the same time.

  
  


o0o

  
  


Not even five minutes later, he puts his bag in the trunk of the SUV before he slips on the passenger seat.

I get in as well. It’s almost painful to watch how careful he is to avoid touching me as he fastens his seatbelt. After I fastened mine, I start the engine. Why the hell did I kiss him? God, I'm so stupid! I have to fix this. I’ve got him in the car; that’s a start. I’ve got seven hours.

He switches on the radio and turns up the volume before he leans back in his seat.

We drive in silence. Somehow the blabbing radio makes the awkwardness more obvious. Mile for mile we leave the city behind us. The houses aside the road get less and less and more and more cars take another turn until it’s just us, the road and an occasional tree we pass by.

Hotch closes his eyes then, his hands folded in his lap. He hasn’t even looked at me since he got in.

It doesn't take him more than twenty minutes to fall asleep. He’s breathing calmly with his head rested on the seat. Even in his sleep Aaron Hotchner looks composed. Maybe he's pretending.

It doesn't matter.

Roxette  starts playing on the radio.  _ Staying on the back seats of  _ _ my _ _ car, making love. _ His lips on mine and how he tensed. Not going to happen.  I want to switch it off, but that might wake him, so I just lower the volume a little. He needs rest, he's getting some now and I don't know what to say to him anyway, so this is good.

B ecause what could I say other than what I already said? That I love him? How would that make things better? No, that would only cross another boundary of his and I just need to deal with my emotional bullshit myself.

Hopefully, we can at least remain colleagues. Hopefully, he won't fire me as soon as we get home.

But that's  six more hours away and all I can do  now  is drive.

Allowing myself to glance at him from time to time, I mainly focus on doing just that. The last thing I need now is to crash into a tree because I'm busy ogling my boss. Being scrunched together in a car wreck is not what I mean when I think about being close to him.

But still, he looks adorable. Peaceful, almost. The frown finally disappeared.

Shifting in his seat, his head rolls to the side, now facing me. Behind his closed lids, his eyes move. I hope he dreams about something lovely.

He moves again and his left hand falls out of his lap and between our seats. The back of fingers brush against my thigh, making me shiver.

I want to touch him so badly and of course, I don’t. That's the lesson learned today, isn't it? I can't touch him because I might kiss him which can never _ever_ happen again. God, what a stupid thing to do!

There’s no going back to friendship, I realize. Not when a single touch of his hand does this to me. Not when I can’t make myself stop wanting him.

Friendship. I’m not even sure if we ever even were friends. He’s not really the warm and open type. And I … I don’t like sharing either. But secrets come with the job. Like his scars that Foyet gave him. Like the scar I kept from Doyle. We both don’t like to talk about these things. We both hold things back. I hold things back. My love for him. I don’t think I will ever tell him that I love him, not after that disaster of a kiss.

We can’t be friends.

If it would be somebody else, if it would be one of my friends I’d tell her to get away from the guy. To forget him, because being close to him will only hurt and that she has to let it go and move on, find somebody else. Somebody who loves her too.

And I'm trying. God, I've been trying. Not today, no. Today I completely failed, but before we took this case I went on two dates with two very nice men that I didn't care about one bit.

The scenery around us changes again. More and more trees appear until we're surrounded by forests.

Hotch stirs next to me. “Emily,” he mumbles. His voice is so soft and gentle, it makes my heart ache.

I wish he’d be awake, saying my name like that. I glance at him but he’s still asleep. At least he’s not angry at me in his dreams. That’s something.

“Emily, please…” Now he sounds longing.

I want him to kiss me. If he’d whisper these words into my ear, there would be no wish I’d decline. I’d give him anything he’d ask for. I want him to ask for much.

His right hand moves and my gaze drops to his lap. And then I stare. Probably for too long for somebody who’s supposed to drive, not to mention how inappropriate it is to stare at the crotch of your boss. But so is getting aroused while sitting next to a subordinate. And that’s what I see. A bulge in his pants. An erection. A hard-on.

“Emily.” He sighs. “I want you.”

Oh. My. God.

I briefly consider to park sideways, crawl over to his seat and mount him.

But that would  _ probably _ be an overreaction. 

Maybe I should wake him up and make him explain. And after he’d apologize, we’ll park the car and have hot crazy sex on the hood of the car. The SUV has the perfect height for him to pound into me. Because Hotch is so tall, I could simply wrap my legs around him. To me that sounds like a very good plan. Brilliant even.

Or I could park, lean over and take him into my mouth. Suck him until he wakes up or comes. Or both.

Or I could just wait and see what happens next.

Because it’s just not lust, because I love him and this is important, I choose option number three.

Despite my bravery in the line of duty, I’m a complete chicken when it comes to my personal life. And since the last time I took a risk didn’t turn out so well, I’m not really keen on repeating that disaster.

So I turn my eyes back to the road and drive.

Of course, Hotch chooses this moment to wake up. His eyes flutter open. For a moment he’s a bit disorientated but then he almost jumps into his pre-sleep-posture. Straightening himself up, he pulls his hand away from my thigh, as if he touched something toxic. Like I’m toxic.

With his hands back in his lap, he tries to hide his erection.

“You said my name,” I say. It seems to be a better conversation starter than _Why the fuck didn’t you kiss me back when you’re having sexy dreams about me?_

He blushes and clears his throat. “I did?”

His frown would never let you guess that he’s actually turned on right now. But he is. He is because of me. Because he dreamed of me. Me with him.

This man makes no sense. And he starts pissing me off.

“What did I do?” I ask. Bold. But Hotch is sitting next to me with a hard-on, so I figure I’ve got the right to be bold. Especially since the kiss. Not that I’m dwelling in the past, no. Not when the present is so much more promising. I concentrate on the things at hand. Like the bulge in his pants. I’d love to give him a helping hand with that.

“Excuse me?” he asks.

I glance at him, his face is flushed.

“Tell me what I did in your dream.” _What did we do and would you like a reenactment?_ – I’m already wet for him. 

Again he prefers not to answer, he just swallows.

I wish I could park the car and make him show me. I wish I could be more sure of him. I nibble on my bottom lip. I have condoms in my ready-bag. I'm trying to move on from him, so I prepared. In case I met someone. I never hoped for this scenario.

“I thought, you didn’t want me,” I say and keep my eyes on the road for a change. We’re still the only car out here.

H e shakes his head. “You called me  s _ ir _ .” His voice is cold.

“Because you looked at me as if I went crazy.”

“Because you kissed me.” He shakes his head again. “You can’t just run around kissing men and expect them not to react.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I turn to face him. “Why didn’t you kiss me back?”

“Because I wouldn’t have stopped.” He looks out the front window.

Something I should be doing too. I return my gaze to the road.

He wouldn’t have stopped. I like that answer. It’s a very good answer. It proves us both cowards, but I like it. Its implications make my heart skip a beat.

“I dream about you too,” I say.

Turning to me, he opens his mouth but not a word comes out.

“I dream about how you’d kiss me. How you’d touch me.” My voice sounds raspy. “You have great hands, Hotch.”

He looks like he’s in shock. He looks like he’s in pain. But mostly he looks like he wants me.

When I lick my lips, he draws in a sharp breath. He stares at me.

“Do you want me to tell you about it?” I ask.

“I shouldn't -“

I take that as a yes. “There was this one dream where you called me into your office,” I say. “Did you ever have sex on that desk?” I glance at him again, he shakes his head. Smiling I look back at the road. Trees still border both sides of the road. Still no other car in sight.

“Would you like to hear about that dream?” I lick my lips again. I want him to think about my mouth. I want him to think about the things my mouth could do to him.

“Emily, please,” he breathes out, yanking at his tie. He sounds desperate.

“In my dream it’s late. The team and I are in the conference room, celebrating my return to the BAU with pizza and drinks, when you come in. You don’t wear your jacket, you even lost your tie, but there is that stern expression on your face that worries me. You say that we need to talk, so I empty my drink and follow you into your office.” I look at him. “Maybe you should take off your tie,” I say. “You look flushed.”

I envy his hands when he takes off that irritating piece of clothing. If I could, I’d do it myself. I’d undress him with pleasure. I’d have him naked within seconds. But I keep my hands at the steering wheel and look back at the road. Luckily the street is still empty, otherwise, I would’ve sure crashed into something by now.

“When we enter your office you tell me to close the door behind me,” I continue. “After the door is closed I turn around and find you standing in front of me. You don’t say a word, you just take my face in your hands and kiss me. Tentative at first, only your lips on mine, giving me space to pull away. But when I wrap my arms around your chest, your body presses me against the closed door,” I steal another glance at him. I’m getting turned on just by talking about it, by seeing that expression on his face, his desire.

Hotch’s hands are clutching to his knees. I bet he’s fighting the urge to touch; me, himself, I don’t know. I wonder how far I need to push him to find out. The bulge in his pants is obvious. I take pride in the thought that it got even bigger since I started talking.

This is fun. With every word, I’m at more risk to crush the car against something, but this is fun. Fun and dangerous and arousing.

“Then your mouth attacks my throat and you grab my ass,” I say, with my eyes back on the road. “You hoist me up so I can wrap my legs around your waist. I groan, but you shush me. We wouldn’t want the team to hear us.”

Hotch clears his throat. “That’s very detailed.”

“I had a long time to think about it.” Again I can’t resist looking at him.

His eyes are wide open. There’s a pearl of sweat on his forehead that I long to lick away.

“I thought about you a lot in Paris. There’s this one dream where you get me from the airport after Doyle has already been caught. I hug you and you kiss me and–“

“Stop,” he cuts in. He sounds dead serious.

“What?” I glance at him.

His upper body is turned to me. “Stop.” His eyebrows are narrowed and his jaw is clenched. The man is not kidding.

Something inside me freezes. Not again. Biting down my bottom lip, I focus my gaze on the road. His hand on my upper thigh draws my eyes back to him.

“Emily, stop the car before I do something stupid.” The warmth of his palm sinks through the light fabric of my dress.

I’m melting like ice cream in the sun.

There’s a narrow branch a few feet ahead of us, so I take a turn and we drive into a dead end surrounded by trees. This is so convenient it must be fate.

As soon as I kill the engine, Hotch opens both of our seat belts. Then his hands are in my hair and his mouth is on mine. He surprises me by being gentle.

“That's what I wanted to do,” he mumbles against my lips before he kisses me again, more eager this time.

His hand hitches up my skirt until I can feel his fingers on my skin.

And I lose my mind. We're not close enough and I need more of him. So I climb over to his seat, bump my head on the ceiling but eventually, I straddle him. This is so much better!

I wrap my arms around his neck, his hands grab my hips and I scoot even closer.

We both moan when I press myself against his hard cock.

He kisses me again, deeper now. I love the way he tastes. His hands roam my back and it's close to perfect except for all the clothes we still wear. I need to get him out of these pants! God, and out of this car. I need more space and the condoms are still in my bag in the trunk of the car. We're gonna need them soon.

I rub against him. He feels hard and hot and big and I want him inside me.

He gasps and pulls back a little.

Crap. His bruises. His ears. “Are you okay?” I ask. "Did I hurt you?”

He's frowning. I definitely hurt him. Crap.

“No, it's just …” He takes a breath. “Have you really thought this through?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Emily.” He chuckles softly and the frown disappears.

Oh, I love how he says my name! I run my hands over his broad shoulders. “I never thought this could happen. I wanted it to, but you never …” I nibble on my lower lip.

“I'm your boss. I couldn't,” he says.

I wiggle my hips a little. “And this is very unprofessional and highly inappropriate.”

His eyes fall shut while he makes a noise that's half giggle and half moaning.

All I want is to kiss him again, but I have to ask, “Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head. When he opens his eyes again, I can't quite read their expression, but whatever it might be, I like it. I'm not sure what this means to him if it's just sex or something else, but whatever it might be, I'll take what I can get.

“How far do you want to take this?” he asks.

What a dangerous question. His erection presses against my core and I want him. I want a date. A whole night in a bed together. A relationship. I don't think he wants to hear that now. “I have condoms in my ready-bag,” I say.

He kisses me again and it takes all my willpower to let go of him.

The heatwave hits me as soon as I open the door, but I don't care. The shadows of the surrounding trees shield us from the worst of it.

I don't know what he thinks as I get out of the car. For sure not my most graceful moves, but I make it out without stumbling and he follows me to the trunk, so that's good. His hands running over my arms and shoulders are even better.

He stays behind me as I open the trunk and lean forward to reach for my bag. Somehow it shifted to the very back of it while we drove.

Then of course the zipper gets stuck. “Just a minute,” I mumble and nibble on my lower lip. I grab the bag with my left and tug at the zipper with my right hand. Eventually, it gives way, so I can stick my hand in and roam around for those condoms.

Next time I'll put some in an extra purse or something. This is ridiculous!

Then I feel him hitch up my skirt and pull in a deep breath.

Hotch flips my skirt over my back, exposing my ass to him. Oh my god. God, I want that man to fuck me so badly!

He runs his fingers over my bare thighs and I shiver. I should probably say something, but my brain is fried. I turn my head to glance at him, but he's so focused on my body, he doesn't even notice. I don't think I ever saw him this blissfully focused.

“Can I take off your panties?” he asks.

“Yes,” I manage. God. Yes, and thank you!

My knees turn to jelly when he pulls my panties down my legs until I can step out of them. I need to lean heavily onto the trunk to hold balance, but again I manage to not fall.

His hands glide up over my legs until he cups my ass. He's so gentle, it almost kills me.

Where are those condoms?

My fingers graze something plastic, I grab it and there they are. Three single wrapped condoms.

His left hand moves between my legs and he runs his fingers over my slit, making me groan.

It's almost funny how eagerly I spread my legs for him. He rewards me by brushing his thumb over my clit and sinking one digit into my hot pussy. I almost let go of the condoms.

He adds another finger and I squeal before I can muffle myself with the bag. His ears! I need to be quiet.

He doesn't seem bothered. His fingers keep fucking me, his right hand steadies my hip and I want him so much.

When I try to turn sideways, he grabs my hip tighter. “No, please,” he mumbles.

God, I want to kiss that man. I need to fuck that man.

“Condoms,” I rasp and reach out my hand. “Please, Hotch, like this …”

Thankfully he understands. I miss his touch so much, but watching as he opens his pants and puts on a condom is as much pleasure as it is torture. His cock is beautiful. Long, thick. I want to take him in my mouth.

He's very efficient with his movements, soon the condom is wrapped around his cock and his right hand returns to grab my hip.

He gives me a questioning look, his lips pressed together. We're both panting now and god, how do I want him!

“Please,” I rasp and lean on my elbows, wiggling my ass a little. It's pathetic, but it's enough.

He moves between my legs and positions himself. We both moan as he slowly glides into me. This is perfect. He's in control. I can't hurt his bruises or squeal in his ears by accident.

He holds my hips and tilts them up a little more before he pulls out almost all the way just to push back with more force, hitting that perfect spot inside of me.

“Yes!” I moan before I can muffle myself.

He does it again. And again. And again. It's exquisite. It pushes me over the edge and I see stars. He follows close after.

o0o

Somehow it's not awkward. He slips out of me. He pulls me up and into his arms. I'm close enough to his mouth to kiss him again and I do and it's sweet and I love him. I wrap my arms around his neck. The fabric of his collar annoys me. I'll get him naked next time. Soon.

His hands glide over my arms. My back. My shoulders. Eventually, he cradles my face before he breaks our kiss and leans his forehead against mine. “Is this a one-time thing for you?” he asks.

I want to say I love you. Instead, I smile. “I've got two more condoms.”

He doesn't smile back. Is he scared? “This is serious for me,” he says.

These words are better than that orgasm before. And more dangerous.

“I love you,” I say. I'm too much for most people, but it's true and what's the point of being a coward anyway? “You're my boss and I know it's unprofessional but I love you.” If he runs now, he runs. I loosen my grip on him to give him space.

And he pulls me into another kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers against my mouth before kissing me again.

I hold on. I'm not losing him over this. It takes a moment before that sinks in. He loves me. And I'm not letting go.

o0o

“ _Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can_.” Nicholas Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors.  
> I love feedback of any kind, including:
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